


The Badger

by PrintDust



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Complete, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Characters, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), POV Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-23 12:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrintDust/pseuds/PrintDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes trouble comes unannounced, and sometimes we invite it in. Sometimes it takes us down paths and on journeys we never imagined were in store for us, where we have two options: get tough and adapt, or die. Set after losing Hershel's farm. Thick with angst. LoRick, Daryl, All characters</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The realization of what it meant to lose the farm settles over them slowly, creeping up in unexpected moments. When they turn the dry taps in the bathroom of one building or another, or when they are forced to move in the early dawn to escape Walkers on their doorstep. Nights give way to mornings and mornings to nights, and before they know it they have been living a transient lifestyle for weeks.

They make beds of the passenger or backseats of their vehicles, sometimes the couches in a clinic… often the ground, whether it be outside or indoors. Lori always makes sure Carl is as warm as possible first, picking the spot closest to the fire for him, or the furthest away from a drafty door. He often sleeps with his head on her lap, or under her arm when they share a sleeping bag.

Her pregnancy hits her hard – both her days and nights are plagued with exhaustion and nausea. She chokes down her meals, only to bring them up minutes later out the window of a moving vehicle or at the perimeter of their camp. She worries constantly: about her children, Rick, food, and gasoline.

She cries the first night that it snows, curled up on a single bed with her son wrapped in her arms, shivering as the temperature dips below zero. Hot tears cool quickly on her cheeks as she buries her face in Carl's shoulder, suppressing sobs of anxiety. When Daryl appears at her side she waves him off, assuring him that the hormones are getting the best of her. He looks uncomfortable and shifts, glancing at Carol across the room. The other woman is asleep and of no use to him, so he digs around in his pocket and pulls out something that crinkles in his hand.

He holds it out to her and she accepts the mushy chocolate bar, one eyebrow rising in question. He shrugs and tells her to just eat the damn thing before he stalks away to go back to his watch.

The grateful smile that she sends his way meets only the barrier of his back.

The chocolate is sweet and soft as she slips a piece of it into her mouth and chews. It doesn't put a roof over their heads, real food in their bellies, or fuel in the vehicles. It doesn't make the snow stop tumbling to the ground, the room any less cold, or Rick any warmer to her – but somehow her tears dry. She folds the wrapper over and places the remaining bar on the crate next to the bed for later, deciding they could all use a little pick-me-up.

XXXX

The inn appears like an oasis on the horizon and she can barely believe it when they pull up to the high iron and brick gates. The property is completed enclosed and set far back enough in a clearing that she is sure they would be able to see for miles from the attic window. She looks both directions along the dirt road before telling Carl he can get out of the vehicle.

Lori gets out too, eager to stretch the kinks that have knotted the muscles in her back and legs. She pulls her too small jacket over her slowly expanding middle and joins Carol at the hood of the car. They stand close to each other and link arms, watching as Daryl and T-Dog use bolt-cutters to snap the thick chain that holds the gates closed.

As she waits she combs the long snowy fields that surround the house, dipping down into a small frozen pond in the corner of the property furthest away from them. The house is large, big enough for all of them she is sure. She wants to call it Victorian, but she isn't exactly sure of its era of design. She knows that it is beautiful though, with its carved stick-work eaves, turned porch columns, and bay windows.

She meets Carol's eyes and knows she is thinking the same thing – maybe this will be home.

They pile back into the vehicles and approach the house by following the drive, barely visible beneath the snow except for where it is dipped lower. Rick instructs them to stay put with the exception of Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie, whom he takes with him to search the house.

T-Dog and Hershel get out of the vehicles to keep watch, and Lori waits anxiously, her fingers drumming against her thighs. She wants so badly for this to be a place where they can settle down, even if just for a while.

Maggie comes out alone minutes later, her face lit with a smile. She knocks on the window of the pick-up truck on her way past it, and then yanks the backdoor behind Lori open, announcing that she and Glenn have claimed the front room upstairs.

In the end she, Rick, and Carl get the front room because it is the biggest and soon they will be sharing with a baby too. Hershel takes the smallest one across the hall that is adjoined by a bathroom to the one T-Dog and Daryl agree to share, though Daryl already has his eye on the rafters in the attic as a place to hang his hammock.

Carol falls in love with the small wood-burning stove in the only bedroom downstairs and she claims it, taking Beth as a roommate. Maggie and Glenn end up in the last room at the end of a long narrow hallway, but they don't complain about the distance, their eyes twinkling as they carry their bags up the stairs.

Lori exchanges the dusty bed-sheets on her and Rick's bed for a fresh pair that she finds in the large walk-in closet attached to their room. She carries the remaining sets out into the hallway and places the pile on a small land-line table for everyone else.

Carl goes outside with his father to do a sweep of the property, leaving her alone in their room to unpack. The bay window conveniently unfolds into a pullout single bed, though she worries that he will be cold so close to the window. Her hand falls to the gentle swell of her belly as she looks out the window, adorned with decorative glass, to her son standing by the pond, his hands shoved into his pockets as he prods the ice with one foot.

Glenn finds her still wistful moments later and he offers her an apology for intruding. She waives off his words, her eyes falling to the stack of firewood in his arms. She thanks him and watches as he kneels beside the mantle and begins to lay the wood in the bricked firebox. He lights a long match and some commercial firestarter, bringing the dry wood to life.

The room immediately begins to fill with smoke and he looks alarmed, telling her to get help. She laughs despite her burning eyes coughs as the smoke hits the back of her throat. Crossing over to him quickly she shows him where the damper is and wiggles it, opening it to a rain of ash and cinder that falls down onto her hand.

Glenn opens the bay window and shuffles out of the room, telling her he will remember that for next time.

XXXX

That night they eat in the parlour room around a fireplace that is so large that Lori is sure Carl could walk straight in without ducking. Their meal is meager – some canned chilli and crackers, and Lori craves cheese and garlic toast. Once she is finished eating she places her bowl on the end-table beside her and lets her head drop back against the high back of the antique sofa. The furniture is surprisingly comfortable and she stares at the flames of the fire, allowing her mind to wander, her hand massaging her belly.

She is startled when T-Dog announces that he'll take first watch, and she quickly gets to her feet, unsure of how long she had drifted off for. When she begins to collect bowls she is stopped by Carol who insists that she take the night off. Lori glances at the dirty dishes in her hands and considers arguing but is quickly ushered towards the stairs by the short-haired woman.

Lori agrees, admitting that she is beyond exhausted and promises that she will make it up to Carol at breakfast as she hands over the bowls and cutlery. Carl follows her upstairs and she changes into a pair of thick flannel pyjama pants and an over-sized t-shirt that almost completely conceals her bump.

She steals one of Rick's t-shirts for Carl and nags him until he changes his underwear. Their dirty clothes are left in a pile by the door for the next day and she gives her son a long hug goodnight, their toes curled into the area rug, warmed by the fire. He rests his hand against her belly that is centered again his chest and looks up at her, telling her that she thinks the baby will like it here.

Carl is asleep when Rick comes in hours later, but she is not. She listens to the sounds of him stoking the fire, and then his clothes rustling as he undresses. He crawls into bed nude and lays alongside her, his skin much cooler than hers. She reaches for his hand, but he turns over until his back is to her, and then punches his pillow to mould it before he settles into it with a gruff sigh.

Swallowing tears, Lori closes her eyes and curls up, eventually falling asleep.

XXXX

The girl – Woman, Lori has to keep correcting herself – appears days later, a tiny speck at the end of the road that morphs into the distinct shape of a person, and then a female as it draws closer. She is tiny, barely reaching Lori's shoulder and she wears her Auburn hair twisted into a fishtail braid that falls over her shoulder, almost touching the curve where her ribs slope into her abdomen.

She introduces herself as Claire.

The invite her to spend the night, instantly trusting the way her easy laugh crinkles the bridge of her nose, and then the grief in her voice as she explains that she is the only one left of her family and group who were killed by Walkers weeks before.

Lori organizes for her to sleep in the parlour, just temporarily until they are able to make other arrangements. As she de-bones the game that Daryl brought back from his hunt, she wonders if they can convert the tiny business room upstairs into a bedroom – I would be a tight squeeze, but large enough for one person. They would need another bed for her, and one for Carl who has been eying the walk-in closet in their room with longing.

She knows he is a growing boy who needs his privacy, and the problem will only increase when the baby comes… suddenly the house feels too small. The other room erupts with laughter following Claire's soft-toned voice and Carol comes into the kitchen in stitches, holding her side. Though she isn't in on the joke, Lori laughs at the other woman's expression and asks her to check on the bread in the oven.

XXXX

Hershel finds three goats when he goes out on a run with Maggie and Glenn to raid the surrounding houses. Lori is excited to see the beds for Carl and Claire, but even more so to see that the Nanny is heavily pregnant. She helps him to tie the female and two males to a tree at the end of a footpath where he has decided they will build a shelter.

She spends the day grilling Hershel on how to care for their new animals while they construct a simple wooden structure made from plywood found underneath the porch. Lori knows she is more a nuisance than an asset as she is told over and over again not to lift whatever it is that she has in her hands.

Rolling her eyes good-naturedly she puts the object down and go back to petting the Nanny while she watches the others work. She feels an odd connection to the creature and she strokes its thick wiry hair, trailing her hand over the goat's swollen sides.

The shelter is finished off with a simple jointed fence that doesn't even require any screws, which they used up on the shelter. She helps Maggie lay straw down before they guide the goats inside and lock them up for the night.

As she prepares dinner with Beth and Carol she can't stop thinking about buttermilk pancakes and cheese. Her mouth waters and her cheeks flush as she admits her thoughts to Carol, who confirms that she has been thinking the same thing.

XXXX

They remain vigilant and ever cautious, keeping their watches all day and all night, keeping their heads down, their vehicles packed with emergency supplies at the ready should they be forced to evacuate. Once bitten, twice shy.

However, despite their emergency readiness, the peace that comes with routine settles over the group. They find their niches, each contributing to the group in the best way that they can.

Lori feels at ease as the birth of her child creeps slowly closer. She knows that she still has plenty of time – the snow hasn't even begun to melt yet, but she Carol and Hershel have already begun to prepare for the event.

The baby had begun to flutter inside her, especially when she lays prone on her bed while Hershel prods her belly, examining her at least once every few days. He has acquired a small medical kit, complete with a stethoscope that he warms between his hands before pressing low to the bare skin of her abdomen. Rick sometimes attends her check-ups, but he keeps his distance, usually taking a spot in the chair in the corner beside the closet where Carl has been sleeping.

She has given up on encouraging Rick to come closer, instead keeping her attention focused on the sound of her baby's heartbeat when Hershel transfers the buds to her ears from his.

Although they still share their bed, she and her husband share little else besides short-tempered spats and passive-aggressive words that cut her to the core each time. She airs her frustration at him for not speaking, and he at her for speaking too much, but somehow she can't stop herself because the oppressive silence between them has become deafening.

Lori tries to be pleasant, to extend a white flag - to reach out to him. But each time she is met with cold silence or impatient hostility.

The first time she catches them they are in the kitchen. It is well past midnight, Lori knows, and she has woken with a parched throat, desperate for a glass of water. The lantern in the kitchen is on when she reaches the bottom of the stairs and she assumes it is Rick, whose side of the bed she woke to find empty.

She is right, though she finds that he is not alone. He has her bent over the kitchen island, his face a mixture of pleasure and aggression as he fucks her from behind, his hand closed over her mouth silencing her, her long braid looped over his wrist, swinging back and forth with each thrust.

Lori's hand finds its way to her mouth as she stares wide-eyed, too shocked to confront them, too stunned to run away. She wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole, that the pressure in her chest as her heart rips would just tear her in half and have it be done with. Instead the seconds continue to tick by and it occurs to her that her husband is fucking another woman just the way she likes it… As that realization slams into her she is knocked out of her trance and the concrete that had fixed her to the floor disintegrates, releasing her. She backpedals out of the room and up the stairs, barely able to swallow down the vomit that is rushing up her esophagus.

Limbs shaking so badly that she fumbles with the blanket as she gets into bed, she lies in the dark, her heart racing so hard against her ribcage that she is sure the whole world can hear it.

She is devastated, humiliated, and bone-crushingly heartbroken as she stifles her sobs into the palms of her hands.

When he comes in the sun is creeping up over the windowsill and she is still awake, watching its thin rays glimmer on the icy crisp snow that has collected along the bottom pane. He smells like soap and his hair is damp when he falls into the bed beside her, sighing with relief.

She isn't crying anymore – there is nothing left inside her, just an empty void of nothingness that feels like a vacuum, pulling at her with such intensity that she is sure she will cave in on herself.

Slowly, she eases her bone-weary body out of bed and heads downstairs where she finds Daryl getting his cross-bow in order. She offers to make him something to eat before he heads out and for the first time she notices the way he avoids her eyes. It isn't his usual detached and shy self, but something more.

I know, she tells him simply, pulling out some bread and peanut butter for him to take with him. When she turns around he is already gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Lori spends the next days in a bundle of anxious nerves that create knots of her stomach that seem to have caged butterflies. She avoids everyone, unable to deal with their betrayal and she feels suspicious of them all – if Daryl knows who else does?

The long list of to-dos keeps her busy: laundry, cooking, dishes, cleaning. She works side-by-side with Carol and Beth, but mostly volunteers to take on the jobs that keep her in seclusion. She sleeps a lot, taking long naps in the afternoon and then she turns in early instead of joining the group for dinner. She can't bear to look at Rick or Claire; the way they sit on opposite sides of the tables, or excuse themselves always minutes apart.

Hershel voices his concern about her blood pressure and urges her to talk to him about what is troubling her. The sincerity in his eyes brings tears to her own and she finds herself spitting out a jumbled mess of words that don't exactly form cohesive sentences – nor are they the truth.

His fingers find her pulse when her breath begins to hitch in tight hiccups and she finds herself fighting to draw a breath that is deep enough to carry any oxygen into her hungry lungs. She stares at the ceiling, listening to his soothing voice as he instructs her to breathe, then demonstrates, urging her to copy him.

She does, and eventually her panic gives way and she finds herself exhausted and emotionally spent. One of his hands lifts hers to place it over her belly where her baby flutters against her palm. He tells her that she needs to keep herself together for the sake of her baby and she nods in agreement, swiping at the tears that continue to leak from the corners of her eyes.

She postulates that maybe it would have been better if she'd never survived that night at the farm. He shushes her again, telling her to get some rest and that he will be back in a bit to check on her. She tries to calm her racing heart by rubbing smooth circles over her belly, but she can't stop the worry that nags at her. If Rick has moved on, surely it wouldn't be long before one of them would be expected to leave. If it comes down to it she knows that they will decide based on usefulness to the group, and it is no secret that she is the weaker link.

They have already proven their loyalties by guarding Rick's infidelity.

Lori wonders what she will do with a newborn out on her own… the thought brings with it more tears as she realizes that she will have to leave her children behind.

A sound draws her attention and she looks up expecting to find Hershel coming back in. Instead she finds Claire there lingering in the cracked doorway. She asks if she can come in and Lori considers suggesting to her another place she can go. Instead she nods reluctantly. Maybe if she doesn't fight it she can maintain peace and she will be able to stay in the group.

Claire's face is void of any guilt, but she does look sympathetic. "Oh, Lori," she says pitifully, taking a seat on the corner of the mattress. "We never meant to hurt you."

Lori wants to spit in her face. She wants to claw her eyes out. She wants to kill her. Instead she turns to look out the window, her throat like a vice that is tightening, gripping her airway.

"It's better that you aren't fighting it," Claire soothes, reaching out towards her. Lori flinches as the other woman's fingers comb through her hair, pushing it back off her forehead. "I really am so sorry."

XXXX

Lori isn't sure if Rick knows that she knows. He still finds his way to their bed each night and she is ashamed each time she finds comfort in that idea. She feels weak and pathetic for clinging to a man who has no respect for her or the promises they had made to each other.

She tries to keep Carl close to her, especially when she sees him interacting with Claire. She finds reasons to call him back inside, though she can see him growing frustrated with being cooped up indoors. She feels selfish, but she cannot stand the thought of having to share him too. She wants him to hate the other woman; she wants him to be on her side.

She loses track of him one afternoon while she is attempting to make pie crusts for dinner. She is finding herself increasingly frustrated and moody and she and Carol have taken to working side-by-side in silence. When the back door slams open she jumps in surprise, dropping the pan that she had been using to form the crust. She curses, looking at the mess at her feet, then looks up to see Carl storming across the kitchen.

Lori calls out to him, partly in irritation, but mostly in concern when she sees his cheeks wet with tears. She is barely at his side before the door slams open again and Rick comes in, his hands balled at his sides, his chest heaving. She has never seen him this angry, nor has she ever been afraid of him until this moment. Stepping in front of her son protectively she holds one hand out to try to diffuse the situation.

The room explodes with words as he rails at her, demanding to know why Carl was in the woods unsupervised. She tells him that she can't do everything, trying to keep her voice calm. Over his shoulder Carol's face is white and stricken.

Lori turns to her son, resting one hand on his shoulder. He pushes her hands away, his voice raised as he tells her the only reason he is in trouble is because he caught Rick and Claire fucking in the woods. The word is like a slap across her face, or a bucket of cold water and she asks him to go upstairs. He stomps his way through the house and she flinches as the bedroom door slams.

Rick, she starts pausing to take a deep breath. He cuts her off, still seething but calmer than before. He's stiff, but she recognizes this Rick, this Rick she can handle. When she asks him if it's over his jaw ticks and he lifts his eyes to meet hers to show her that they're red-rimmed and swollen. She is grateful that he can offer that much to her and she nods to give him permission to say it.

He leaves her with both their rings in the palm of her hand and she waits until he has stepped back outside before she allows herself to collapse against the wall and slide to the floor, her legs refusing to hold her up anymore.

She had expected that she would cry in this moment, but instead she can't seem to feel anything at all. Arms close around her and she is vaguely aware of Carol pulling on her and pushing her hair behind her ears. It doesn't take much coaxing before Lori's head is resting on her shoulder and she finds herself whispering over and over again that she is okay…

…She isn't okay.

She sits on the corner of the mattress of their bed, staring disbelievingly at the pattern on the rug while he collects his things from their room. She wants to beg him to stop, to talk about this, but now she realizes that both talking and silence have failed her and she has nothing left. She asks him if he will be moving into Claire's room and he tells her that he will take Hershel's floor for now.

When she nods her neck is stiff from sitting in one position for so long. He tells her she should eat something, that the pies are ready downstairs. She shakes her head, her stomach roiling beneath her hand – if she eats she will throw it up anyway.

The next morning she wakes to find Carl's bed un-slept in. She searches the house for him, eventually finding him in Daryl's hammock in the attic. The man sits in the window, a semi-automatic propped up on his lap and he barely spares her a glance before he turns back to keep watch.

The hammock hangs chest-level and she reaches inside to smooth her son's forehead, her fingers dancing over smooth, pale skin. When he stirs she whispers to him, telling him to come downstairs and sleep in his own bed. He turns over showing him her back and tells her he isn't sleeping downstairs anymore.

Lori's objection dies on her mouth when Daryl lifts his chin. She transfers a kiss from her palm to the back of Carl's hair and leaves him be.

XXXX

They get another dump of snow a few days later so she and Carol procrastinate doing the laundry. Neither of them are particularly fond of the idea of trekking out to the creek to lug enough water back inside to fill the basin. When she draws the short end of the stick, Lori tries to play the pregnancy card, which Carol quickly shoots down.

Sulking, she pulls on a pair of men's winter boots that they have all been sharing and ties them tightly to keep them on her feet. Slipping her coat over her shoulders she sighs when it won't zip up over her belly – it's the second one she has grown out of since leaving the farm. Pushing it off her shoulders she snags T-Dog's, it is far too big for her but it closes and she counts that as a blessing.

As she steps outside onto the porch Carol gives her a guilty look and calls her back in, offering to go instead. Lori's response is an appreciative smile and insists that she go, but demands that Carol have hot chocolate ready for her when she gets back.

They use a sled that is more like a piece of sheet metal that has been curved at one end. It is propped up beside the door. Lori tosses the buckets onto the ground ahead of her and picks up the sled with both hands. It isn't heavy, but it is awkward with her belly in the way. Carefully she walks it over to the steps and blindly lowers her foot onto the first one.

She barely has time to register what is happening before she is suddenly falling, her hands flailing, desperately searching for the railing. Her hip collides first on the top step and she realizes her foot is tangled in the rope attached to the front of the sled when she tries to use it to stop her downward momentum.

Her head strikes the banister as she tumbles the rest of the way down the steps, finally stopping when she reaches the bottom, sprawled out on her back, the sled half underneath her. She estimates that the entire event took less than a second but as she plays it over in her mind again and again it happens in painstaking slow-motion.

The door behind her opens and she hears Carol begin to ask if she dropped the sled, and then she is calling back into the house for help.

Lori lifts one hand to her forehead and it occurs to her that she is bleeding, which she can't seem to understand through the fog that has settled over her brain. She tries to tell Carol that she is okay, but instead whimpers as her stomach seizes. Trying to curl up she is stopped by hands, lots of them, holding her in place. Maggie is leaning over her head wearing only a t-shirt, her palms splayed on both sides of Lori's face, stabilizing her neck.

"My baby," she mutters the words, though she isn't sure that anyone can hear her over the roaring sound as blood rushes through her ears – adrenaline, her body is releasing adrenaline.

Maggie tells Glenn to get Rick, but no one knows where he is. He's in the woods with Claire, Carl answers from miles away and underwater all at once.

XXXX

She is carried upstairs to her room by Daryl who is quickly dismissed as Maggie and Carol begin to undress her. Carol keeps apologizing and Lori wants to tell her to stop but she is distracted by the contractions that are coming in regular intervals. She tries to breathe through them but before she knows it they are one on top of the other and she can't seem to catch her breath.

She digs her fingers into the bed, her fingers twisting around the sheets, desperate for some measure of comfort. Maggie has gone to get water and Carol is stroking her forehead and monitoring her pulse while Hershel examines her.

She can't stop begging Hershel to make the contractions stop, and then she is bargaining with him and the Universe and whatever god she thinks might listen. It's too early.

The door opens and Carol turns to tell whoever it is to get out, but then Rick is there, chest heaving, sweat dampening the curls on his forehead. He crosses the room to her and he smells like evergreens and campfire as she buries her face into his jacket, sobbing because the baby can't come now.

He slides in behind her, propping her up against his chest and his hand finds hers. His grip is powerful and almost painful and she squeezes back, locking their other hands over her rock-hard belly. He is whispering nonsense in her ear and she closes her eyes, breathing to match the expanding and deflating of his chest beneath her until they are in sync.

As she begins to relax she realizes that he is counting backwards, his voice even and rhythmic, drawing her out of herself and into him until she is in a place where it doesn't hurt anymore. Eventually there is only him, and her, and their baby… and then there is nothing at all.

XXXX

Lori wakes to a silent house. It is very early in the morning and she looks around, afraid to move. Her head is killing her and she lifts her hand to touch the bandage that is adhered to her skin, covering a tender wound.

She finds that she is lying down on her pillow and she looks around frantically before she realizes that Rick is still there, but seated on a chair beside the bed, asleep. His upper body is sprawled across the mattress, and his hand is still locked around hers.

On her other side is Carl; his arm is draped over her abdomen, curled over the swell of her belly protectively. His head has fallen into the crevice between her pillow and the one that should be his. She shifts slowly lifting her arm to pull him into a half-hug and he repositions himself until his head is resting on her shoulder.

The hardwood floor outside her door creaks and she looks up to find the door cracked. Thin fingers slip through the space and wrap around the door, pushing it open. In seconds Lori finds herself looking into Claire's chocolate eyes as the other woman inspects the scene before her.

Her mouth quirks up in to a barely-there smile before she pulls the door closed.

XXXX

She is sentenced to two weeks bed rest by Hershel who draws a rudimentary calendar on a piece of paper. It doesn't have any dates on it - they have long-since lost track of those. Instead, it is fourteen uneven rectangles inside which Beth adds smiley faces, hearts, and stars. They place it on her bedside table and she jokes that she could easily cross two off at a time and no one would be the wiser.

Beth tells her that she will remember whether it was a heart day or a smiley day and she'll know. Lori is sure she has never heard anything so sweet.

The group take turns keeping her company and she appreciates their time. Rick comes in periodically throughout the day to check in on her, usually bearing a small token – most of the time food. She tells him she will be a whale and won't be able to get out of bed when her time is served. His uncomfortable expression reminds her that all is not well between them.

She too is wary of him and she finds herself building up walls before she can negotiate the old ones down. She wants to make it work but she is very angry, and even more hurt than that.

They don't talk about the day on the road after the farm, they don't talk about Claire, and they don't talk about Shane. Instead they talk about them, which is tricky, she learns, while they are trying to avoid all the landmines that are off limit topics.

She rarely sees Claire, though she sometimes hears her in her tiny room next door. She usually comes upstairs with her plate to eat alone, and Lori wonders if Rick has ended it with her. She doesn't have the courage to ask, and so she leaves it in limbo for the time being.

XXXXX

When Lori checks off the last day on the calendar it is a star day. She climbs out of bed on feet that have travelled no further than her chamber pot in the corner of the room, which is actually an old mop bucket that poor Carol emptied and rinsed for her.

The baby has grown and she is sure she must be around five months pregnant. Sliding her shirt up to under her breasts she runs her hand over her smooth skin. Her belly is still a gentle curve but it is decidedly round as she inspects it in the dresser mirror. When Carol comes in she comes bearing a pair of jeans, and she smiles warmly at the sight before her.

Lori accepts the pants with their let out seams and elastic waist, saying she has never been so happy to have to go up a size. She offers her friend a grateful hug and thanks her for all she has done for her.

She eases back into the chore schedule, though she is banned from water runs and anything that requires any kind of lifting or strenuous activity. So she folds laundry, peels vegetables, and sets the table.

She is permitted to go outside three days later when Hershel announces that the Nanny is in labour. She attends to the birth, assisting the old man and Daryl into the early hours of the morning when finally one kid arrives, and then another; they are both snow white and slick with mucus as they lay on the hay beneath their mother.

Lori congratulates the Nanny and strokes her hair as she is overwhelmed by the presence of new life in a world that is filled with the dead. Daryl's hand on her shoulder pulls her from her thoughts and he tells her he will walk her inside to get some sleep.

The twins are girls that change overnight from trembling nondescript shapes on the floor to fluffy babies that she can hold against her chest. Carl names them Pickle and Vixen, while Daryl calls them Breakfast and Lunch. When the Nanny starts to produce milk they make sure the twins get their share first and then they take what is left.

Rick gives her a book on how to make dairy products and they eat cheese that didn't quite set right for dinner. But it's a start.


	3. Chapter 3

Lori can never seem to find whatever it is she is looking for. She has convinced herself it is pregnancy brain that is causing her to misplace everything because she keeps finding things in places she is sure she did not leave them. It isn't a big deal, more annoying than anything, especially when she is trying to get dressed and can't find her jeans or socks.

She starts to become suspicious when it is her wedding ring that has been moved from her bedside table to the dresser. Because she isn't wearing it anymore she knows that she never takes it out of the drawer. She asks Carl about it first and she believes him when he vehemently denies having gone through her drawers.

When she asks Rick he blinks in surprise and asks her if she wants to start wearing them again. She tells him that she isn't sure, but that is beside the point. But then the conversation has gone to a place that she isn't up for negotiating, so she drops it.

XXXXX

Lori is lucky that Glenn and Maggie offer to go check in on the goats one morning while she finishes up her breakfast. She is constantly hungry, and now that she is almost out of her second trimester the baby is doubling in weight - so is she, it feels like. When she is finishes, she helps Carol clear the table and wraps the leftover pancakes in wax paper before she puts them in the icebox, keeping one for herself.

The front door opens then closes and she hears whispers in the parlour. Tearing her pancake apart she eats a small piece and goes over to the doorway, curious about what the big secret is. Glenn and Maggie avoid her eyes and turn back to Rick who looks pale. She asks if everything is alright and is quickly steered back into the kitchen by Maggie who assures her that it is nothing to worry about.

When she is forced into a chair she knows that it is bad and demands to know what is going on. Maggie tells her that one of the twins is dead. Lori is grateful that she is seated because she feels as though she has been socked in the gut. She asks how, and Maggie hesitates before saying that it was violent – a broken neck.

Using the table to brace herself, Lori wordlessly gets to her feet and slips on her boots. Carol and Maggie share a concerned look before the latter takes her arm and they walk together down the sloped path that leads to the goat shelter.

Rick and Glenn are talking quietly when she approaches and she looks between them to the small figure lying on the snow. At first she isn't sure what to think, but when she keeps her eyes on it long enough and it doesn't move at all it begins to look dead.

Kneeling down, she smoothes her hand over its side and gasps when she finds that it is Vixen, and that she is frozen solid. She asks Rick how this could have happened but it is Glenn who answers instead. He suggests that maybe Vixen got stuck in the fence, to which Lori shakes her head. "Someone did this," she surmises, wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye.

She announces that she needs to lie down, and Maggie takes her arm again to help her to her feet. She spends the rest of the day being coddled by Carol and Beth who bring her tea and the sugar cookies that were supposed to be for dinner. "It was just a goat." She says the words aloud whenever a new onslaught of tears begins to build in her eyes, but all she can think about is the Nanny and Pickle and how she was supposed to take care of them.

Dinner for her is a solemn occasion. She keeps her eyes on her plate as her mind works, turning the day's events over and over again until she has examined them from every possible angle. Finally she settles her eyes on Claire who is seated between T-Dog and Daryl and she clears her throat. "We all know she didn't break her neck on the fence… am I the only one who is going to say it?" Her words are more confrontational than she means for them to be, but she is tired and her devastation is quickly turning into anger, and it wasn't just a goat.

Rick puts down his fork, his hand rising to pinch the bridge of his nose.

She looks around the table, receiving blank stares. "Anyone?" she asks, lifting her hand in a gesture of frustration.

Claire is the only one who is really looking back at her, her brown eyes staring into Lori's unblinkingly. Huffing, Lori gets to her feet and throws her napkin down on her place. Beth reaches to take her hand to stop her from leaving, but she pulls away, taking a contrary step back.

"Fine," she picks up her plate and goes over to the sink. "If you are all fine with living in a house with a… murderer, then that is your prerogative."

Rick gets to his feet, his hand landing on the table hard enough that it knocks over Carl's water glass. He tells her that no one wants to live with a murderer, but that they can't jump to conclusions and start pointing fingers – this isn't going to turn into a witch hunt.

Lori glares at him as she heads for the door, countering that there isn't going to be a witch hunt: they all already know who did it.

XXXX

The house is pitch black and the fire has gone out. It is so cold that her skin is numb and covered in goose bumps. Slipping out of bed she realizes that she has been woken by the sound of a baby crying. It doesn't make sense until her hand finds the flat surface of her abdomen and she understands that the baby is hers.

She follows the sound out into the hall and down the creaky service stairs that lead to the kitchen. She can still hear the cries but they are muffled and she realizes they are coming from the freezer. Perplexed, she pulls the door open to find a swaddling blanket stuffed inside. Grabbing for it she opens it to find the stiff blue remains of an infant. She cries out, crushing the baby with its frosted eyelashes to her chest. Whipping around in shock, she finds that she is no longer alone. Rick is there, and so is Claire – he is running his hands through the dark thatch of curls between her legs, then his fingers trace up, over her hip bones…

Lori bolts from her sleep in a cold sweat, her heart hammering wildly in her chest. Shakily, she pushes the covers off and twists, her feet finding the rug covered floor. She takes steady gulps of air, her hand smoothing over her belly as she convinces herself that it was just a dream.

She reaches for the glass beside her and curses when she finds that she went to bed without refilling her water. Sighing heavily, she gets to her feet and makes her way downstairs, one hand resting against the small of her back. She chugs one full glass and is in the process of refilling it when a beam of light streaks across the window above the sink.

Slipping on her shoes, she grabs T-Dogs coat and steps out onto the porch, drawing the thick fabric around her for warmth. There is someone around the other side of the house and she squints, recognizing the small stature immediately. She follows Claire, determined to force the woman to come clean about Vixen. She decides she will tell her to leave first thing in the morning.

As she turns the corner she feels something sink into her side and she gasps, doubling over. She recognizes it as a knee and she lashes out in self-defence, her fingernails digging into flesh deeply enough that she is sure she has drawn blood. She stops fighting when arms close around her from behind and she feels something cold and thin press to her neck. Claire tells her to be still, and she obeys.

She is bigger than the other woman, but she has a lot more to lose. She closes her eyes as her hands are ziptied behind her back, and then she is guided to the station wagon. She keeps her mouth set in a straight line and she glances up at the attic window, hoping that Daryl can see her from this angle. She ducks her head as she is forced into the backseat and she tells Claire that she doesn't need to do this. They can work it out.

Claire laughs and puts a bag over her head that smells like urine. She gags, gasping, but there isn't any fresh air. She struggles against her bonds, her heart hammering wildly as the truck starts up and she starts calling for help. Something collides with her head and she slumps sideways on the backseat, dazed. It hits her again and she can do nothing to fend off the attack that renders her unconscious.

XXXX

Lori is awake longer than she lets on and she listens to the sounds the car makes as the tires roll over unpaved terrain. When they finally stop she is sure she will throw up as she waits in nervous anticipation for what will happen next. The door by her head pops open and she is dragged roughly from the car.

She falls to the ground where she curls up, protecting her abdomen the best she can with her knees and she wonders how she didn't see this coming. The bag is removed from her head and she realizes that it is still dark. She counts this as a blessing because it means that they can't be too far away from the inn. That means they will find her body… and they will know what happened to her.

"Please," she blurts as Claire pulls the knife out of her coat pocket. "I'm pregnant," she says around the lump in her throat. "You can't do this. I'm having a baby." Her voice sounds eerily calm and reasonable, even as Claire raises the knife. The other woman flinches as she brings it down, squeezing her eyes shut and Lori watches in horror as the blade sinks into her own thigh and then calf in quick succession. She is so shocked that it doesn't even hurt at first, and then her body slips into shock and she begins to tremble, staring wide-eyed at the blood soaking through her pyjama bottoms.

The pain hits her and she can't do anything but writhe on the snow covered ground because her hands are still tied behind her back.

"I'm sorry," Claire mutters. "I can't have you walking back… it's later than I expected," she informs Lori as she cuts the ziptie with the bloody knife and then abandons it in the snow, quickly getting to her feet. "I'm giving you a chance," she is muttering around her hand that is partially covering her mouth. "Please remember that I gave you a chance."

Lori screams after the other woman as she watches her jog around the car and get in. She is still screaming her name long after the red-taillights have disappeared and her throat is raw. Her hands are slick with blood as she applies pressure to her thigh wound which seems to be the deeper, more severe of the two.

When she is spent her screams fade to sobs, and then she is silent, listening to the sounds of the woods around her. She can hear the snapping of twigs and rustling and she wonders if it is Walkers or wild animals, not that they are drastically different. Claire has left a leather bag next to her and she loops the strap over her shoulder without inspecting its contents. Collecting snow into a ball she holds it to her thigh and begins to half-crawl and half-drag herself toward a thick evergreen. She finds that the ground underneath it has been sheltered from the snow by its thick boughs and she crawls through them, wincing as the dried pine needles prick her palms. Once she is concealed she leans against the trunk and closes her eyes to catch her breath. Her hand is more numb from the blood-soaked snowball than her leg is so she tosses it to the ground and starts digging through the bag.

She finds a sweater first and she quickly shrugs off T-Dog's coat to pull it over her head. It is one that was snug weeks ago, but she stretches it over her belly; she would rather be uncomfortable than die from hypothermia. With her coat zipped in place again she pulls out a bottle of water, a pair of socks and a handful of trail-mix bars.

She considers stress-eating, then abandons the idea – she needs to save her food. She tucks the revolver and ammo into her coat pocket, along with the knife.

The last thing she finds in the bottom of her bag is her locket. She lifts the chain out and finds hers and Rick's wedding rings attached to it. She shoves the jewelry back into her bag and zips it closed then places it on the ground beside her. She secures her hood over her head and lays down, pulling her arms inside the coat to wrap them around her belly. The baby is restless and she is jabbed over and over again by tiny elbows and knees. She counts every movement as a reassurance that she is fine, the baby is fine, and she is not alone.

XXXX

Lori wakes the next morning, frozen to the core and her back is aching from sleeping on the ground. She sits up and picks leaves and twigs out of her hair which she is sure looks like a rat's nest. Grimacing at the pain in her leg she moves forward and crawls out from her shelter, her eyes scanning the woods for any danger. She finds the snow around the tree undisturbed with the exception of her own tracks from the night before.

She gets unsteadily to her feet, sinking her teeth into the wool collar of her coat. Bracing herself on each tree in the dense old-growth forest she limps toward the sound of running water.

With her injuries it takes her a long time to get to the small creek that bubbles up between two rocks. She lowers herself to the ground beside it, finding that most of its surface is frozen solid. Using a rock she begins to smash the ice, each strike chipping away until it finally cracks with a splash of icy water.

She is thirsty and exhausted, but she mostly just hurts. Her throat is sore and she can feel dampness settling into her chest; she knows she won't survive long in this weather and she hopes the others are looking for her and that they find her soon. Her pants are stuck to her wounds where the blood has clotted and dried. She has to tear them away, reopening the punctures and she sits in horror watching as the blood begins to seep out again.

She uses her hands to cup the water and pours it over the wound on her thigh. She is surprised to find that it stings and she slams her fist down on the bedrock, a strangled cry escaping from her throat. She realizes that she hasn't been keeping watch when something snaps directly behind her. She freezes, fumbling for her knife and she turns around, her eyes widening when the long barrel of a shotgun presses into her forehead.

XXXX

The woman who holds the barrel steadily to her head is old and weather beaten, her face like cracked leather, her knuckles like knotted tree roots. She eyes Lori carefully for an eternity before she lowers her weapon and leans against it like a staff.

Lori pulls her sopping pants over her legs to cover them and looks up at the woman, her teeth chattering. She moves to get to her feet but is stopped by the woman who lays her hand on her shoulder, forcing her back down. The stranger kneels down and uncovers Lori's legs again, tsking at the sight of her injuries.

"Come on then," she croons, sliding one hand around Lori's back. She almost creaks as she stands but she is sturdy and powerful as she keeps them both upright. Lori considers declining, but somehow she feels like this woman is not accustomed to being told no. Also, she has no other plans: she is wet, pregnant, injured, and frozen to the bone. In the end she reasons that this woman can do no worse to her than the elements will if she remains at their mercy.

The woman helps her to carry her bag and they walk for a while, following the steam over mounds and rock piles that the woman tells her are an ancient settlements returning to the earth. Eventually they come to a small cabin that looks like someone has carved it into an oil painting using charcoal. It is simple and square with a roof that sags dangerously beneath the weight of the snow that has accumulated on top of it. The wood is blackened by age and tree sap that has discoloured it, but it is one of the most beautiful sights Lori has ever seen.

They slip inside together and Lori feels as though she has stepped back a hundred years. She eyes the rustic furniture that is made from thick, solid pieces of wood, and the hand-woven blankets that are draped over the bed. The floors creek under her feet as she limps further into the room, inspecting the cobblestone fireplace and the built in shelves that hold jars of varying sizes, stuffed with leaves and herbs.

The woman bars the door and ushers Lori over to the fire where she opens a hatch in the floor and pulls out bone-dry logs. She tells Lori to strip down as she stokes the fire, keeping her back to her. Lori peels her wet clothes off and holds them awkwardly covering her nakedness, shivering due to the severe difference in her body temperature and that of the room.

The woman exchanges the pile of wet clothes for a thick wool blanket which Lori eagerly wraps around herself as she is ushered toward the bed. She finds the mattress to be surprisingly comfortable when she lays down on it and she allows her eyes to drift closed. The woman moves away for a few moments and then returns. When the bed dips as she takes a seat on it Lori finally opens her eyes. She watches as the woman unties a leather pouch with several thumb-sized vials inside it. She opens one and pours oil over the puncture wound on Lori's thigh first, and then her calf. It stings, but Lori is more focused on finding out what it is.

The woman tells her it is Tea Tree Oil to disinfect and treat the wounds. She covers them with a thin cotton wrap then drapes another blanket over Lori before getting to her feet. She comes back with another vile of oil that she massages into Lori's shoulders, this one is immediately recognizable: lavender.

Lori doesn't even realize she has fallen asleep until she wakes hours later. As she sits up she is immediately presented with a bowl of stew so thick she can stand her spoon up in it. The woman slides pillows behind her back and tells her she needs to rest her leg until it is healed.

Lori shakes her head, telling her she can't. She has to get back to her group; she has a son and she worries that he is in danger. "In time," the woman promises, patting her hand kindly. "Now you have to rest."


	4. Chapter 4

Lori learns that the woman calls herself Badger. She thinks that the name is interesting, and she wonders if it is a nickname of some kind. She learns quickly that Badger uses words sparingly; as though she is afraid she will run out of them. At first the other woman's silence is unnerving, and then as Lori adopts it she realizes that it is peaceful. When she is quiet she has more time for her own thoughts. She learns that the woman has Muskhogean Nation ancestry, and that she has lived her entire life on her native unceded land.

Lori spends most of her time in bed picking her way through Badger's library, which is mostly comprised of books on spiritual and natural healing. She reads the sections on natural childbirth with an air of skepticism, but she doesn't voice her concerns. Her birth with likely be natural, but by the time the baby she comes she will be back with her group and with Hershel, who is as good as any doctor.

Badger changes the dressings on her legs daily, adding oils and lemon to clean it. On the third day Lori is allowed out of bed and she explores the tiny cabin, her fingers tracing over carved wood figures and fur pelts. There is a large chest in one corner and she kneels before it when Badger has gone out for the day to hunt. It is very old and the wood has split in some places, but she can still make out the faded artwork that is painted on its six sides: large faces with exaggerated features that represent animals.

Inside the box she discovers old photographs of people in aboriginal dress. She is sure the colours would have been spectacular, but they are lost in the black and white images. There is one with a family standing in the foreground, a small cabin nestled into the thick foliage behind them, barely visible in the overexposed sunlight. Two daughters and a son stand in front of a woman, and there is a man who holds a violin. The girls are copper skinned with black hair that is braided and tossed over their shoulders - the boy stands with a rifle in hand that is taller than he is. The peasant tops and period clothing that they wear looks plain and very different from the traditional aboriginal clothing in the other pictures.

The door creaks and Lori startles, whipping around to find Badger watching her from the door - statuesque. Lori begins to apologize, carefully placing the pictures back inside the chest, embarrassed about being caught snooping.

Badger hangs two rabbits over the hearth and joins her, stiffly taking a seat on the floor, her joints cracking as she curls them until she is seated cross-legged, her broom skirt fanning over her knotted knees. She places a hand over Lori's. "You've found my memories," she reveals, her voice slow and smooth like molasses. "Or the earthly things that represent them."

"I shouldn't have…" Lori begins to apologize, but is silenced when Badger lifts the photo from her hand and turns it toward her, her smile creasing the skin around her mouth.

"My family," she points one crooked, arthritic finger to the woman and then the man, telling Lori that they are her mother and father. Then to the boy and taller girl: her brother and sister. And finally the smallest one, whom she identifies as herself. She tells Lori that she was born in this cabin as her charcoal eyes sweep the walls and ceiling, her mouth parted.

Lori can see now that it is true; the cabin in the picture and the one she sits in now are one in the same. She looks at the image and finds her head dropping to rest on the other woman's shoulder as tears flood her eyes. "My son," she explains, lifting her hand to cover her eyes.

Badger's weathered hand rests against her cheek with incredible gentleness and Lori closes her eyes, her chest shuddering with grief.

XXXX

They pack lightly and set out the next morning. Badger gives Lori a pair leather boots that are lined with fur – they are so comfortable that she groans when she sinks her feet into them. She wears T-Dog's coat with a wool shawl draped over her shoulders and she uses a cane that is smooth and worn at the handle.

Her limp is heavy as she walks, her leg barely healed, but she is determined to get back to Carl and the group. They follow the creek that Badger assures her will lead them to the highway. It takes hours and it is almost sundown by the time they are trudging along the side of the road. They follow a single set of tire treads that have crystallized over the days that Lori has been in bed.

The snow crunches under her boots making her unsteady and Badger loops her arm though Lori's, telling her to take her time. The older woman tells her stories of the Wihtikow, a folklore demon who inhabits people and that craves human flesh. Lori asks her if she thinks that's what the Walkers are – people possessed by evil spirits. Badger asks her if it is any less believable than any other theory.

They both keep watch for danger. Badger has a bow and a quiver of arrows that she wears across her back and she takes down the walking dead from several feet away. Lori waits anxiously for her to come back each time she goes to retrieve her arrows. They are fortunate not to come across any hordes, though Lori notices that the Walkers appear more frequently as the day edges into night.

Badger tells her they will have to stop until morning and starts off the highway. Lori's disagreement goes ignored and she is eventually forced to follow the other woman into the woods again. She glances at the highway with a feeling of disappointment; she was supposed to be home by tonight.

By the time they reach the small elevated hunting blind that sits on thin posts, Lori's legs are quivering. Her severed thigh muscle denies her even one more step and she falters, gripping the edge of the ladder to stay upright, her cane abandoned at her feet. Badger bends over to retrieve the cane then climbs the ladder, pushing the hatch open, eliciting a groan from its rusted hinges.

Lori watches as the other woman disappears into the darkness and she looks around nervously, shivering at the shadow-cast woods and the cold that is seeping through her jeans. Something moves in her periphery and she is startled when a Walker is suddenly gripping her hair, yanking her head backwards.

She cries out, pushing it away, but its hold on her is powerful, almost bone crushing. Lori slams her elbow into the things face, hearing its nose pop as it caves inwards, and then she hits it again, this time with upward momentum, driving its bottom jaw upwards and through its upper lip.

A dull crunch fills the immediate night air and the Walker goes still and slumps to the ground. She looks up to find Badger leaning out of the doorway, her fingers covered in black, oily blood.

She tells Lori to get her knife as she begins to climb down the ladder again, dragging something with her. Another corpse falls from the shelter as Lori is standing up, Badger's knife in her hand. She looks up to meet the other woman's eyes, and then asks why he is naked.

Badger tells her that in Lori's condition the floor will be too hard to sleep on without anything to pad it. Lori shudders, beginning to climb upwards, not sure how she feels about sleeping on a dead person's clothing.

It turns out that the day's events have exhausted her enough that she couldn't care less where the clothes have come from. She eats her trail mix bar and smoked salmon with heavy eyelids half-closed, then collapses onto the puffy hunting jacket. She is vaguely aware of Badger tugging on her shawl then unwinding it to lay it over her legs.

It takes minutes for her to fall into a deep sleep. Tomorrow. She will be back with Carl tomorrow.

XXXX

The inn appears on the horizon as beautiful as it had that first day they had found it. She points to it, unable to contain that eager joy that swells in her chest. Her excitement dulls however, when they reach the gates to find that they are no longer chained and padlocked.

The cars are gone when she reaches the top of the drive and the door is left ajar. She shivers at the dark windows and the eerie silence as she steps inside, cold wind whipping through the parlour and stairway.

Carol and Beth's bedroom is in disarray, their beds bare and cupboard standing open, empty and mocking. Lori explores the rest of the house, finding it in similar condition. She leaves her own room for last, knowing that that will be the one that breaks her.

It does.

She finds Carl's things gone along with most of her own. She sits on his bed in the closet and reaches for his pillow, drawing it up to her chest where a sob is building. The pressure in her heart is unbelievable, as though it has swelled to fill her entirely, pushing and pushing until it bursts and her grief spills forth with cries that are long and almost inhuman.

She lies down on the thin single bed, her face burrowed into the pillow as it absorbs her tears that come in steady streams. Her eyes fall on the floor and she catches sight of something that is blurred by the tears in her eyes, but she can see that it is chequered finely with blue and white squares - she recognises it immediately. Reaching out she snags the fabric with her fingers and tugs on the sleeve until it comes loose from under the bed. Lori pulls the button-down shirt to her chest and hugs it, breathing in the smell of her son that lingers in the fabric.

Badger leaves her alone for most of the day but insists that she come downstairs to eat in the evening. The couch is pulled up close to the fireplace in the parlour and they sit side-by-side in silence, eating packaged oatmeal.

She feels like she is in a dream that doesn't make sense. Carl can't just be gone. It is unfathomable, it is impossible, it is too much. She launches up from the couch and out the door where she falls to her knees at the edge of the porch and heaves, bringing up her dinner and stomach acid that scorches her inside-out. When she is finished, she gets to her feet to find Badger standing in the doorway, backlit by the fire inside, her features cast in shadow.

It is easy to be angry at her when Lori can't see her kind almond shaped eyes or the gentle curve of her brow. She turns on the other woman because it easier to be angry than it is to be hurt, so she assigns blame. If they had come sooner this never would have happened. Her words are sharp and clipped as she whips them at Badger and it angers her more when they don't seem to have any effect at all.

Badger doesn't flinch or waiver, she listens; stoic and ever unyielding as stone that has stood the test of time and anything that the world has thrown against it. Her strength, for the first time since their meeting, is not comforting. It makes Lori feel weak and powerless against her, child-like and incredibly mortal in its presence.

Her anger melts back into numbing pain and she slumps, her energy depleted. The floorboards squeak and she hears Badger's slow feet shuffling over to her. Lori looks up to find the woman's face creased and lined with the same agony that burns inside her and she falls forward, her forehead finding a solid shoulder to cry against.

She is encased in a hug that is equally gentle and powerful and she isn't released until she is tucked into the cushions of the couch by a heavy quilt. "What do I do, Badger," she asks, staring into the flickering flames before her.

Badger, who has taken a seat on the floor beside the fire, lifts her head. "We return home," she answers turning her charcoal eyes to the fire. "You must let go of the pain and sadness or you will have no room for the joy you will need to get through these times. You will heal," Badger promises, her voice heavy with the wisdom of one who has lived a thousand lives before.

Turning onto her side, Lori snuggles her cheek into Carl's shirt, his scent already fading away. Closing her eyes she clings to him, holding him steadfast to her, tucking him into every fold of her being until she feels as though he is right there with her.

XXXX

When they get back to the cabin Lori climbs into the bed and refuses to get out of it for days. She lies on her side with her hand on her belly and lives in the past. She thinks about her first ultra-sound with Carl, watching his tiny heart pulsing on the screen, Rick laughing in her ear. When he turned five they bought him his first bike, a blue two-wheeler that Rick taught him to ride in their drive-way.

Eventually Badger has enough of it and physically forces her to her feet, dragging her out of the bed by her wrists. Lori fights her until she is shoved out the door and it is slammed behind her. She stands shivering in the snow in her socks and shirt that barely touches the tops of her thighs. She clenches her hand into a fist and bangs on the door, yelling to be let back in.

"Fine," she calls over her shoulder. "I'll just die out here with my unborn baby."

When the door remains closed she huffs and turns to look around her. Her eyes ache from being indoors for so long and she looks up at the sky – it's blue through the sparse canopy of tree branches that are bare and bony and lifeless against it. The door behind her creaks open and she turns around to find Badger standing there.

Lori passes her to go inside, pulling her soaked socks off. Badger bars the door again and pulls a chair out at the small table for Lori to take a seat. At first she is torn between the soft mattress of her bed and the offered spot at the table, but one glance at Badger tells her the bed is not an option. She lowers herself onto the chair and inspects the tea on the table, running her fingers over the rim of the wooden cup. It's warm to the touch and she picks it up, inhaling the smell of honey and something else that she doesn't recognize. Badger tells her that it is strawberry leaf and that it is good for her pregnancy. Lori shoots her a glare over the rim of her cup, still not ready to forgive her for her stunt. "Not being locked out in the cold is also good for my pregnancy."

Badger's face remains placid at Lori's words as she looks down over the flattened bridge of her nose. "You asked me once why I am called Badger," she says, referencing a conversation that had taken place closer to Lori's arrival at the cabin.

Lori nods, leaning forward in her chair as she tries to predict where this is all going.

The woman takes a seat at the table opposite Lori and pours herself some tea. "When I was born I was a timid thing, always hiding behind my mother's skirt when other people in our community would come to the door." She and Lori share a smile at the image. "The Badger in my people's traditions represents that all things are possible if we don't give up. It is stubborn, strong-willed, and independent – it teaches us to walk our own path in this world, at our own pace," she explains, getting to her feet again. "I was not born a badger, Lori. But it does not always matter who we are, what is important is who we are becoming."

Lori stares at the wood grain on the table before her, listening to the woman's words. She shakes her head, pushing her hand through her hair. "I just don't know how to accept that I will never see him again." The words bubble up with more tears that are raw and painful as she tries to contain them in the back of her throat.

"You can see the future, then," Badger moves behind her, her hands resting on Lori's shoulders. They are heavy, pushing her down into her seat, grounding her.

Lori smiles despite her tears and shakes her head no, moving her cheek to rest against Badgers thick fingers.

"I live here alone, not because I want to," Badger tells her. "I live here alone because first they came for our children, and they moved them off to schools where they stripped us of our culture and our history. And then they came for my people and moved us to reserves where we lost our connection to each other and the earth," she lifts one hand and smooths it over Lori's neck, up over her jaw to pull her hair back. "And then they came for my children and I never saw them again. So much pain and loss, but I cannot know the future. I can only know now - and now I am here and the Creator has brought me you."

"Is that enough?" Lori asks, curling her hand around the swell of her belly.

Badger pats her cheek and steps away to check on the fire. "You are enough."


	5. Chapter 5

Lori devotes most of her time to preparing for the baby to come. She and Badger work together in the long evenings, sewing scrap cloth to make tiny sleepers that look more like pillow-cases with arms. On some of them Lori sews small handmade buttons along the bottom so she will be able to fasten them closed. Badger teaches her to fold and sew moccasins that are small enough to fit in the palms of her hands. She admires them in the firelight, anticipating the day when she will slip them onto her baby's feet.

They sharpen long pieces of wood into spears and drive them into the ground at an angle so that they pierce the chests of Walkers who come too close to the cabin. Most mornings they find at least one or two Walkers impaled on their traps and Badger puts them down before they work together to drag them off to the burning pile.

As the temperature warms outside they go on hikes, collecting fallen braches. When she asks what they are for Badger tells her that she will see soon enough. Lori rolls her eyes at the words but feels a measure of excitement that catches her off guard – and then the guilt hits her. She doesn't have a right to feel anything resembling joy when her son is missing, possibly dead. Badger is watching her and she knows that she has worn her conflicted emotions on her face, because the woman pulls her into a half-hug that is made awkward by the wood they are carrying.

XXXX

Badger says the strawberry leaf tea will help to regulate her due date and prevent her from carrying overdue; Lori likes the sound of that idea. Badger has delivered more than a dozen babies in her lifetime. She assures Lori of this while she prods her tummy to make sure the baby is moving into position. It is early spring and Lori tries to count the seasons to figure out how much longer she has to go. Badger tells her that it will be soon and Lori shakes her head, saying that that is impossible. Unless…

Her voice trails off as she counts on her fingers, then shakes her head and counts again before she settles on September. If it is early April as she suspects, then that would mean the baby was conceived before the Walkers… before the coma, before Rick was shot.

"It's Rick's," she mumbles, just to try the words aloud. Badger hums in response and doesn't press for details. Instead she tells Lori that she wants her to feel her own cervix, reaching for her hand.

Lori shakes her head and pulls her hand away, declaring that she will leave that one to the midwife. When Badger insists, she avoids meeting her eyes as she inserts her hand inside of herself, squirming under the physical and social discomfort. When her fingers find the right spot she shakes her head, stating that she isn't sure what she is supposed to be feeling.

Badger tells her that she is still high, long, and firm. When labour nears she will become shorter and softer until she will be able to feel an opening and the baby's head. Lori pulls her hand back and reaches for the basin of water to wash her hand, suddenly feeling sick with fear. Badger's hand lands on Lori's knee to stop it from shaking and she offers her an encouraging smile. "It didn't feel real," Lori explains her vibrating emotions, lying back against her pillow. "I mean – this," she places her hands on the rounded dome of her belly for emphasis, feeling the baby squirm inside her. "This is pretty real but…" when she looks at Badger her eyes are wet with tears.

Badger gets to her feet, patting Lori's hand as she passes her on the way to the water basin.

Left alone with her thoughts, Lori turns onto her side curling around her baby – Rick's baby. Their baby. Cupping her hands she covers her face, unsure if she is laughing or crying.

XXXX

Sometimes at night when she can't sleep she sits by the fire, listening to the even sounds of Badger sleeping in her bed at the other end of the cabin. Lori usually takes a spot on the floor and stretches out the aches in her back, or she rereads the chapters on child-birth, this time with an open mind.

She remembers her pregnancy with Carl, and thinks of how different this one feels. Instead of feeling like a science project at the mercy of doctors and tests, she feels empowered, liberated. She checks her cervix daily and massages herself with vitamin E oil to prevent tearing during birth. She is nervous but excited to have her baby and she is confident that she and Badger will ensure that the baby enters the world safely.

Badger provides her with a leather trunk that she retrieves from the rafters of the cottage. Lori sorts the baby's clothes into it along with the diapers that they have sewed from folded terry clot. She has towels and blankets that they have designated for the baby. She slides the trunk under her bed to keep it out from under-foot.

She wonders where the baby will sleep, but Badger soon remedies that problem too. Lori wakes one morning to the smell of porridge and cinnamon filling the cottage. She sits up slowly, the task becoming more difficult each day as the baby grows larger. She realizes immediately that something is different and she sweeps the room before her eyes settle on the spot directly next to where she is sleeping. Reaching down, she runs her fingers over the smooth side of the cradle that occupies the spot beside her bed, admiring its sides: different kinds of branches that have been stripped, braided, and oiled until they are as smooth as suede.

A mattress has been placed in the bottom and Lori presses down on it to feel that it is firm but soft.

The door opens and Badger comes in bringing with her sunlight and fresh spring air. Lori pushes herself out of bed and goes to her immediately, pulling her into a hug. "Thank you," she whispers, keeping her hold on the other woman.

Badger wordlessly returns the embrace, rubbing Lori's back affectionately. She waits patiently until Lori releases her and then pats her cheek as she goes over to attend to breakfast.

Lori bars the door and then turns back to the cradle, her eyes misty as she inspects the way the sun seeps through the boarded windows to light it. She crouches down beside it, fingering the posts that she will use to drape a cloth over the baby while it sleeps. For the first time since taking the test, she wonders if she will have a son or a daughter.

Reaching under the bed she finds the handle for the trunk and pulls it out. The worn brass locks snap and she opens it slowly, her eyes inspecting the things inside. She locates the sleeper that has crossed her mind every day since sewing it and she pulls it out, admiring the blue and white chequered pattern of the fabric.

She takes a moment to press it over her heart before she folds it and places it into the cradle – she's ready.

XXXX

Lori is ready, but apparently the baby is not. She gripes about the strawberry leaf tea as she paces the small confines of the cabin, her hands bracing her aching back. She is uncomfortable all the time and she is frustrated by her inability to deliver this baby. She can feel its head pressing steadily down and most of the time she isn't sure if she has to pee or if it is just the pressure.

She is swollen, hot, anxious, and weepy. Each twinge that subsides without starting labour has her bursting into tears of frustration. Badger assures her that it will be soon, that she can feel the baby's head when she does her examination, to which Lori snaps that she can feel it too, grinding against her pelvis day and night.

The idea of the baby coming begins to feel like a dream again and she is sure that she could use up a box of tissues in one day if they had any tissues, which they don't because they don't have anything that she needs!

Lori spends most of her time pacing the small confines of the cottage. She does most of the chores indoors because she is too nervous to go outside with the increased Walker activity in the area. Badger is patient, even when Lori is not, listening to her tirades and complaints with an air of kindness and understanding that sometimes just serves to aggravate Lori further.

When she is being particularly unreasonable Badger takes her leave to give her space, usually going on a water run or out to hunt.

One morning she surprises Lori with maple smoked bacon and crepes with black current jam for breakfast. Lori sits propped up in bed as Badger massages her swollen feet, a small smile playing on her lips. The smile is infectious and Lori shares it, apologizing for being such an insufferable bitch most of the time.

Badger nods, her eyes twinkling as she covers Lori's feet and stands. She dumps the last of the crepes on Lori's plate before picking up her bow and quiver, silently announcing that she is going on a hunt. Lori thanks her for breakfast around a piece of bacon and watches the other woman step out into the brilliant morning.

XXXX

She starts to worry when the sun begins to set and Badger still hasn't returned home. She is reluctant to bar the door, but eventually is forced to when the sounds of growling and wheezing Walkers begin to disturb the silent forest. She sits at the table waiting, her body wound tight with nervous apprehension. When her back begins to protest she gingerly walks around the cabin, fiddling with and tidying things.

Eventually she has to eat something and she settles on cured salmon and sun-dried squash with some ancient grain rice. She prepares enough for two and sets Badger's portion aside on the fire hearth to keep it warm.

She changes for bed then slips under her blanket, staring at the door until she falls asleep.

It is three days before she finally accepts that Badger won't be coming back. She has run out of water and she knows that she cannot continue to procrastinate going to the creek. Her throat is parched as she sets out with the bladder bags and jugs.

Lori feels unwieldy as she waddles heavily and it feels like the baby is between her knees as she walks, her feet sinking into the muddy thawed earth. She has not ventured this far from the cabin in weeks and it feels like she has entered a new world altogether. The trees have begun to bud and the earth is rich and brown.

The sun is warm on her bare shoulders and face and she scrunches her nose at the smell of something rotting. Her heart picks up speed and she looks around for Walkers but only spots a couple in the distance, impaled on wooden spears. When she reaches the creek it is awkward for her to kneel down with her belly so large. She slips on the mud as she lowers herself to her knees, cringing as her pants are soaked through.

She fills the bladders first and is moving on to the first jug when a sound catches her attention. Looking around her, at first she doesn't spot anything out of the ordinary. She is returning to her task when a movement in her periphery startles her. There is something in the mud at the other side of the creek.

Lori gets to her feet, awkwardly bracing her knee to push herself up. As she approaches the pile the smell of rot intensifies and she covers her nose with her forearm as she reaches for her knife. The shape heaves on the ground, and as she gets closer she begins to distinguish fur, soaked with mud.

At first she thinks it is a bear or an animal of some kind, until she sees a distinctly human hand clawing at the mud. Heart picking up speed she steps closer, avoiding the hand as it reaches for her. She steps on it, wincing as it crunches under her boot. Lori already knows what she is seeing but she has to see it before she will accept the truth.

With its only free appendage secured and pinned in place, she reaches out a trembling hand and pulls back the fur coat, revealing a face that she knows, yet doesn't. Warm charcoal eyes have turned milky with angry bloodshot lines that weave through unrecognizable irises.

Lori stares wide-eyed at the flattened nose and once copper skin that is now ashy and mottled grey, at the teeth that snarl and snap together, not quite lunging at her because the Walker is so thoroughly stuck in the mud that it can't move.

She lifts her hand, her knife burning into her palm. She turns it over, inspecting the way the sun glints off its sharpened blade. The sounds of rasping and growling draws her attention back to the Walker that was once Badger and a tear slips down her cheek, tracing a path down to the corner of her mouth.

The knife slips into the Walkers skull smoothly, like cutting watermelon. She leaves it embedded in the temple and sits back on her feet, crossing her arms over her stomach. For a few moments she isn't sure if she is going to be sick or not. She opens her mouth to gag, but instead a scream erupts, raw and primitive.

She is crushed by the unfairness of the world and she pounds her fist on her thigh, lowering her chin until it rests against her chest. Her anger fizzles out quickly, and she stares at the body before her, allowing herself to mourn her friend.

Lori is surprised to find that she isn't devastated or pushed into the darkness of mind-numbing, crippling depression that drives her into bed. Instead, she reaches out to smooth her hand over Badger's jet-black hair, tangled with earth and leaves.

Her baby moves inside her and she smiles, wiping her tears from her cheeks. She is too full of life to be consumed by death. It isn't what Badger would want anyway.

She picks a small clearing and drags Badger to it. It is hard work and by the time she reaches the location she is nauseated from over-exertion. She sprinkles tobacco over her friend, the way the books tell her to and then wraps her in a blanket, averting her eyes from the torn flesh on her forearm where she has been bitten. Lori cremates Badger because she can't bury it the way she really wants to.

XXXX

Lori wakes that night and sits up to find that her nightgown and bed are damp. She eases her way to her feet, using the bedpost as leverage to stand. She is achy and she can feel her labour in her back more than her front for now. She gets the naturalist book from the shelf and lights a beeswax candle as she takes a seat at the table.

She keeps herself busy by rereading the chapters, her hand smoothing over her belly calmly. Badger has already prepared a small kit for the birth and she retrieves it from under her bed, carefully laying out each of the items on the table. She starts with the lavender and roman chamomile oil blend, warming it in her hands before she massages it into the stretched skin of her stomach, and then her back, breathing in its hypnotensive aroma.

The contractions are painful but she keeps Badger's voice in mind, riding them out one at a time, tackling each second on its own - she is in the now. She listens to her body, moving through the room as the hours pass: she spends most of the time pacing and crouching next to her bed, her hand knotted up in the tiny sleeper in the cradle.

It is very early in the morning when she feels the baby slip further down and she checks herself, chest heaving as she breathes through the discomfort. Her labour is not as painful as it was with Carl – she is in control. Her fingers touch something bony and curved, her baby's head, and she feels the urge to push. Standing up, Lori grabs the pillow off her bed and goes over to the fire where she can lean against the stone as she squats.

It occurs to her that from this baby's very first breath she will be alone.

Grinding her teeth she begins to push, pressing her chin into her chest. It seems to take hours before she is turning the baby to pass its shoulders, guiding it into the world with her own hands beside a pit of dying embers.

XXXX

She lays in her bed, exhausted but happy and content as she watches her newborn daughter sleep beside her. She explores walnut-sized hands and feet, and caresses a tummy that is extended, full of her own milk. The baby is still wrinkled from her watery gestation, but she has been wiped down, though Lori has yet to cut the umbilical cord – the book recommends leaving the placenta attached for a couple of hours at least. She has wrapped the placenta in some cloth, she finds it disgusting but she is unwilling to stray from the books advice.

Leaning over she presses a kiss to her baby's head and lays down, using her arm as a pillow.

Judith, she decides, the name sliding to the front of her mind - after her grandmother.

Judith Badger Grimes.


	6. Chapter 6

Lori and Judith settle into a routine fairly quickly. She realizes that it is challenging looking after a newborn completely on her own, especially when they don't have running water, a reliable source of food, and there are Walkers roaming the forest.

She sleeps very little, spending most of her nights walking the floors with Judith draped over her shoulder or strapped to her chest in a folded sling. The baby is generally well-tempered and easy-going but she is a sociable night-owl, which Lori worries will draw unwanted attention from the Walkers in the area. She speaks to her in a low even tone, relishing in the sounds of the baby's soft coos and sighs.

Using a piece of wood and pocketknife she puts a small notch in the wood branch that supports the cradle, marking off each day that passes. She counts each scratch as a personal victory and before she knows it she has kept the baby alive for an entire week.

When she changes the baby's diaper she also cleans her umbilical cord religiously, dabbing off the discharge with a clean rag. She remembers it taking weeks for Carl's to fall off using alcohol. This time she follows the advice in her book and she sprinkles rosemary over the stump to dry it out, so the baby always smells lovely, like evergreen. It only takes three days for the cord to shrivel up and dry out.

By the end of the week Lori notices a foul smelling discharge in the bed when she wakes up. Her stomach is sore when she prods it and she feels fevered. She spends the day in bed with a cold cloth draped over her forehead, and luckily Judith is patient with her mother, taking long naps herself, her tiny fist plugged into her mouth.

At night Judith has had enough of their disrupted routine and she wails, her face angry and red, her feet and hands scrunched. Lori gets out of bed immediately and lifts the trembling baby with one arm. She swaddles her tightly and paces with her secured over one shoulder, her other arm wrapped around her tender abdomen.

When Judith finally falls asleep, Lori takes a seat next to the low-burning fire and flips through her books. She cannot afford to be at even a fraction of her best.

The next days are brutal as she treats her infection with Echinacea and garlic. She sleeps often, her baby curled into the crook of her arm, or in the valley where her neck and shoulder meet. Judith's soft breaths are warm against Lori's skin and she strokes her downy hair, humming to her while she is conscious enough.

When she becomes aware of her surroundings she is weak and dehydrated and her stomach is cramping with hunger. Judith's diaper is soiled and she is mewing into Lori's throat. Lori stumbles to her feet, leaving the baby on her back on the bed, wailing at the ceiling.

Raking one hand through her hair she looks around the room in confusion, noting the extinguished fire, its logs collapsed into white ashy heaps. She turns back to her daughter, her brow pinching in sympathy and she lifts her, kissing apologies over the curve of her skull. She lays the infant back down and peels off the diaper, frowning at Judith's skin, red and inflamed. She apologizes again, carrying the bare baby over to the water basin. She tips the water out onto the floor and refills it before easing her daughter into the tub, cradling her with one arm, her hand cupping her head. She rinses her off, whispering to her reassuringly, keeping her voice light and soothing.

She dumps the water again, this time outside, and then bathes the baby again, this time adding oatmeal to the water. Judith's cries have quieted, so Lori lowers herself to the floor and slumps against the edge of the tub, her chin lowering to rest on her arm as she watches her daughter for a few moments, feeling guilty.

By the time Judith is patted dry all seems to be forgiven. Lori pulls one of the sleepers over her and rolls it up to above her navel, leaving her bottom bare to air out. She takes a seat at the table, draping a terry cloth over herself before she feeds the baby, her hand stroking her daughter's ear rhythmically. Judith nurses for much longer than usual, making Lori feel guilty again; she still isn't sure how long she was out of it.

XXXXX

It takes some time to reorient herself and re-establish her routine. She spends a lot of time down by the creek, scrubbing the laundry that has been neglected since Judith's birth. She takes Judith with her and lays her on a blanket on the ground next to her, leaving her to gaze at the forest around her.

Lori usually leaves Judith inside when she goes out to put down the Walkers that have become trapped on the spears. She uses the baby's nap time as an opportunity to sneak out and drag the Walkers off to the ravine where she burns them daily.

She reads as much as she can about naturalism and survival. Most of her days are spent wandering the woods with Judith in a sling, searching for useful plants. She stumbles across another cabin one day and slips inside. It is empty and long abandoned, but Lori explores anyway. She uses a wicker basket to collect sheets, matches, and a package of candle wicks; she has been meaning to make some more candles. Lori shows each item to her daughter and explains what they will use them for.

The last thing she finds is an old Polaroid Instamatic camera. She smiles as she inspects the clunky technology, checking to see if it has batteries. She tucks the camera into the basket between the sheets. Lifting the basket she rests it on her hip and supports it with one hand while using her other to pull Judith closer.

Early the next afternoon she dresses Judith in the chequered sleeper. She slips the tiny moccasins onto her feet and props her up on a pillow by the creek, tickling her feet to get her to wake up a bit. The baby looks at her with her fuzzy unfocussed gaze and yawns, letting her know that it is well past her naptime. Lifting the camera, Lori crosses her fingers as she turns the on switch. She releases a breath when the green light flicks on and the flash charges. Quickly, she aims the camera and snaps a shot of the baby. She waits until the camera spits out the photo before she turns it off.

The image appears slowly in the sunlight and she laughs when she sees that she managed to capture the mossy green in the baby's eyes. Picking her daughter up she loops the camera around her neck and heads back to the cottage, showing Judith her portrait.

Lori is nearing the cabin when the hair on the back of her neck begins to rise. She pauses, moving in a slow circle to inspect the woods around her. Juggling Judith, she reaches to her back pocket only to discover that she left her revolver at home in her excitement. She reprimands herself for her carelessness and starts to walk quickly.

The sound of rustling over her shoulder makes her heart seize and she picks up speed, her eyes jumping between the ground and the cabin that is still several yards away. She reaches the door as footsteps close in on her heels and she ducks inside, reaching for the door to slam it behind her. An arm slips into the space and she darts across the room, laying Judith on the bed as she scoops up the gun that she left there that morning.

Whipping around she raises the weapon and points it at the intruder who freezes, lifting his hands. Her hands are trembling badly as her finger rests on the safety.

Lori's pulse is roaring in her ears so loudly that she sees his mouth move, but she cannot hear what he is saying. He motions for her to lower the gun and she nods stiffly, closing her eyes for a second to take a deep breath. The sound of Judith's wails begins to overpower her own adrenaline rush and she turns to the baby, then looks to him as his blue-grey eyes settle on the bundle on the mattress.

She takes a shaky step towards him and before she knows it she is hugging him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. He doesn't hug her back, but he offers her an uneasy smile when he pushes her away, his eyes finding the gun that she had unintentionally been holding against the back of his head.

Her smile is apologetic as she motions for him to come in. "Jesus, Daryl," she whispers, moving past him to look outside. When everything seems still she turns to him again, watching him prop his crossbow up against the wall. "Rick? Carl?" she asks, her fingers gripping the doorjamb.

"We're stayin' in a prison about a days hike away," he informs her gruffly, his eyes sliding to Judith who is still crying on the bed. "You gonna get that?"

Lori shuts the door and locks it before passing him to go to her daughter, her eyes stinging with relief.

She isn't sure when it happens but somehow he ends up with the baby as she prepares dinner for them. She boils salt-cured ham and preserved vegetables as she tells him about what happened with Claire. He looks unsurprised and she isn't sure how to take it, until she catches his eyes squint slightly and his hold tighten on Judith when she tells him about the attack and her stab wounds.

When she asks him what he means he shakes his head telling her that they'd assumed she'd run off after Vixen and everything that had happened with Rick and Claire. She asks him if he really thinks she would put her life in danger like that, or her baby's, to which he shrugs, telling her that it wouldn't be the first time she did something stupid.

She rolls her eyes and considers telling him off, but it's hard to do when he is cradling her daughter so gently and whispering to her, calling her sweetheart. She can't tear her eyes away from the scene and before she knows it she is swiping at tears that have begun to slip from her eyes. "Does Carl think that I… that I left him?" she asks, knowing the answer will damn-near break her heart.

Daryl's mouth twitches and he nods, lowering his eyes and shifting uncomfortably. "He's a tough kid," he assures her, holding onto Judith's pumping foot. "Just like this little ass-kicker, huh?"

He tells her that they will head out first thing in the morning, and that it will take most of the day to get back to the highway where he has left his bike. She agrees to the plan and starts to pack once she has put the baby down for the night. Her bag is mostly filled with things for Judith: her clothes and diapers and two blankets. Lori packs the camera too, and Judith's first picture.

She tosses and turns most of the night, her thoughts a whirlwind of disbelief and fear. She has not asked Daryl about Claire and she isn't sure if knowing any more will calm her turbulent emotions. True to his word, Daryl shakes her awake at the crack of dawn, presenting her with plain oatmeal and the leftover ham from the night before. They sit at the table in silence while they eat and Lori nurses Judith.

Lori asks to make a pit-stop before they leave and Daryl reluctantly agrees. She leads him to the clearing where she has placed a small pile of rocks to mark where she cremated Badger. Crouching down beside the grave-marker she digs through her bag and pulls out a piece of leather that she has tied into an envelope. She opens it to inspect the picture of the small family one last time, her finger tracing over the youngest girl's face.

She folds the leather again and tucks it inside the rocks, making sure that it is secure. "I hope that wherever you are, you don't have to be alone anymore." Closing her eyes she sends a silent thank you and goodbye to her friend before she nods to Daryl, telling him they can go.

XXXX

They hike without many words exchanged between them. Lori listens to the sounds of Judith's cooing and the woods around them, lost in her own thoughts as she tries to imagine what will happen when she gets to the prison. She explores two ends of a spectrum: one where Rick and Carl are overjoyed to see her and the other side where they hate her and send her away. She hopes that at the very least their reaction will fall somewhere in the middle, but hope does not still the butterflies in her stomach.

They have to stop a couple of times for her to nurse Judith and to rest. It is dark again by the time they reach the highway, and she expects that the bike will be there waiting. Instead he looks around them for a moment before leading her to walk along the shoulder of the road. "I thought you said it would be right here," Lori looks around nervously.

"Sometimes you don't come out the same way you went in," he answers simply, shoving his hands into his pockets.

XXXX

Judith doesn't like the motorcycle. She is secure enough, sandwiched between Lori's chest and Daryl's back, bundled and wrapped up in the sling. She squirms and startles each time the engine kicks and roars and she cries the whole way, even as they are passing through chain link fences into a large yard. Walkers stumble around the area and Lori tucks her head into Daryl's shoulder blade, nervous that she will be grabbed or bitten.

The gate is pulled open before they reach it and Daryl steers the bike in a long arc before they come to a stop. He steadies the bike with his foot before half turning to help her off, his hand secured around her forearm. Lori barely has time to inspect the large brick buildings and the fences before doors squeak and people begin filling the yard – some that she recognizes, others she doesn't. She is only interested in two faces though, and she finds them easily in the crowd.

Her husband is worn and sweaty as they lock eyes. His hair is longer, curling on his forehead, and he looks exhausted, but he is there and he makes her heart pick up speed. Carl, her boy is just over his shoulder and she does a double take, he's almost at his shoulder. His hair is a dark mop of stringy hair that hangs across his eyes and his face is thinner, more angular. Their eyes lock and his widen in surprise then squint as a myriad of emotions flicker across his face.

His mouth eventually settles into a straight line and he turns his back on her and stalks away, his shoulders stiff. Beth, who had been rooted next to him, offers her a tiny smile and turns to follow him inside.

She turns back to Rick, her throat swelling with emotion and she feels herself begin to tremble, awaiting a reaction from the stoic man. He begins to shake his head and her heart plummets into her stomach, tearing her insides as though it is made of barbed wire. And then she is in his arms and she processes his reaction as one of disbelief rather than chagrin. His hands wind into her hair as he cups the back of her head, a grunt mixed with a sob escaping from him as he crushes her to him.

She pulls back immediately but keeps her hand on his cheek as she lowers her gaze to the baby between them. His eyes follow hers and his Adam's apple bobs as he surveys the sling. She pulls back the cloth to introduce him to Judith, his daughter, unable to look away from the expression on his face. He looks at the baby in wonderment, and she asks him if he would ever believe her if she told him she never wanted to leave. He folds her into a hug, this time mindful of the baby between them, his forehead resting against her own.

Relief washes away any remaining doubts that had been bundling her nerves and she sighs - the moment is broken when yelling behind them erupts.

Lori looks up to find Claire standing behind Rick, her arms raised to aim a gun at an invisible target on Rick's back. Her husband turns slowly, his hands up as he moves directly in front of Lori.

Claire is irate, yelling accusations and Lori isn't sure how to answer to the half of them. Rick is in deputy mode as he speaks to her calmly, urging her to put the gun down. The auburn haired woman shakes her head, tears sliding down her cheeks as she announces that she will not lose her family again.

The tip of an arrow resting against her temple makes her freeze, however, and she looks to Rick pleadingly. Daryl suggests that he and Glenn take her for a drive.

Resting her hand on Rick's shoulder, Lori moves to stand beside him. She looks the woman over, taking a brave step towards her. Leaning in close she moves the woman's braid to expose her ear. "You almost killed my baby, you bitch. And I promise you that I would kill you if even an ounce of me thought that would be the right thing to do," she ground out, reaching out to still Claire's hand that flinched at her side.

"This is me giving you a chance. You better make good use of it."


	7. Chapter 7

Lori barely has time to process everything as she is bombarded with questions as soon as she steps inside the prison. What she really wants to do is find her son, but instead she spends the majority of the night formulating answers and watching Carol, Maggie, and Beth take turns holding Judith. It feels strange to have to share her daughter and she is itching to take her back. By the time everyone trickles off to go to bed she is thoroughly exhausted, but unsure of what she is supposed to do.

Carol comes into the room and to her rescue, announcing that she has made a crib for Judith to sleep in for the night. It is a simple white box with a pillow stuffed inside, but the baby is zonked out in her arms and Lori doesn't think she would mind if it was a box of nails.

She is shy as she steps into Rick's cell and she busies herself with getting Judith ready for bed, and then herself. She slips into a pair of shorts and a tank top that Carol has left out for her, and then crawls into the narrow bottom bunk, her back resting against the wall. When Rick comes in he seems to be feeling equally as shy, and he offers to take another cell for the night.

Lori shakes her head – they've spent enough time apart. He strips down to his boxers and stands with his clothes in his hands for a moment, as though he can't remember what he is supposed to do next. She finds it strangely endearing, if not a little bit sad that something that she would have considered an absolute in their lives not so long ago, is now a reason for pause.

Reaching out she catches his fingers and pulls him into the bed, taking the clothes from him to toss them onto the floor at the other end of the cell. He moves slowly over her, his eyes sweeping the length of her body. He pauses at the scar on her thigh, his fingers reaching out to touch the remains of her wound. Slowly, he leans down to kiss the puckered skin, his beard abrasive against her smooth thigh. He continues up her body, stopping once more to touch his lips to the butterfly tattoo on her stomach before he reaches her mouth.

Sliding her arms around his shoulders, Lori finds herself easily kissing him back, unable to stop the tears that slide down her cheek, escaping from her closed eyelids. She wants him so badly, but she can't erase the image in her mind of his betrayal. Her groggy brain is churning with questions; did he even try to find her? Did he suspect anything about Claire? Did he share this bed with her?

She gasps as they are interrupted once again, this time by Judith, who is apparently not as tired as she had appeared to be. Lori begins to slide out from underneath Rick, but she is stopped by his hand on her shoulder. She watches him duck out from under the bunk then crouch down. He stands with Judith flush against his chest, her head tucked into his palm, pressed solidly to the spot over his heart.

Lori finds herself telling him about her conclusions regarding the baby's conception. He asks her if she thinks it was that time on the back patio, after their argument about his overtime. She nods, saying it is likely… they hadn't exactly been intimate much during that period of their marriage.

He paces the tiny cell that is barely a few steps in either direction, his eyes fixed on his daughter's face. His words are like gravel when he apologizes to Lori for everything that has happened – especially because he has allowed Claire a greater presence in his life in Lori's absence. The revelation hurts, but Lori listens to his emotional confession, and then he turns to meet her gaze, his eyes thick with tears and shame. She realizes that he is waiting for a reaction, and she finds herself nodding in understanding, exonerating him of any guilt. "You thought I had left you," she whispers, around her own tears. "I forgive you for moving on."

He shakes his head, his lips finding Judith's hair, then her cheek. Turning to Lori, she can see the frown that pulls at his brow and the wearied lines around his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak but he falters.

"It's okay," she jumps in, partly because she doesn't want to see him so hurt. Mostly because she is afraid of what he will say. They sit in silence, the baby grunting as she struggles to control her hand well enough to suck on it. Rick places a kiss on her tiny knuckles first, and then helps her to hold her hand to her mouth. "Did you try to find me?" she finds herself asking, moving into a sitting position, her legs crossed in front of her.

He nods, readjusting his hold on Judith's diaper covered bottom. "You have no idea," he admits, his words blended with an odd laugh that sounds like he is masking embarrassment and something else that she can't put her finger on. She wonders what he means, and when he looks at her it is like he is looking right through her. "I couldn't put it all back together, Lori. I made a deal with myself that I would keep you safe. That I would find a place. That I would fix that."

His chest shudders and he pinches the bridge of his nose. Shaking, Lori uncurls and finds the floor with her feet. Ducking out from under the bunk she approaches him slowly, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

"Baby…"

He takes a step back and Lori looks to Judith, feeling unsure, her teeth raking over her bottom lip. "Then I couldn't open that door. I couldn't risk it… I was just – and there was Carl, and the baby."

She nods understandingly, reaching out again. This time for their daughter. He releases the baby easily and Lori curls the tiny girl into her chest protectively, watching her husband as he sinks down onto the bed, his face buried in his hands.

"I kept seeing you. You were here, Lori. A-and out there," his arm sweeps out towards the windows and she follows his gesture with her eyes, finding nothing but the moon glowing against the prison bars. She isn't sure what he means, but she is reluctant to press him. She's never seen him like this before: fractured and almost incoherent.

Lori lays Judith down in her crib and approaches him, crouching down before him, her hands reaching out to cup his face. She waits until he meets her eyes before she speaks. "We are going to be okay," she promises. She isn't sure what okay looks like at the moment, whether it is them together or not, but she knows that she will be strong for him and get him through this.

He shakes his head, breaking her hold on him as he runs his hand through his hair. "Claire…" he says her name and Lori tilts her head, waiting for him to continue. "I let her convince me that you left. And now…"

"You hate her…" Lori finishes, reaching out to catch his hand. "You hate her for what she did to you, but you still love her."

He shakes his head in denial, but when he meets her eyes he nods, the shame returning to his visage.

Lori smiles at the irony, pulling him to her as she moves back until she is seated on the floor, her back to the wall. He is kneeling between her legs, his hands wrapped around hers, his head bowed. "Even when I thought I loved her… I was still looking for you. What does that mean?"

She shakes her head, unsure of how to answer him. Suddenly her isolated cabin in the woods feels like heaven.

"I have made so many mistakes," he laments, his chest rising and falling evenly.

Looking down at their knotted hands, she takes a deep breath. "Sometimes it doesn't matter who we have been," she whispers. "What matters is who we are becoming."

XXXX

The next day she finds Carl outside on the loading dock - he appears to be keeping watch, but she has the sneaking suspicion that he is avoiding her. When she asks if she can join him he barely looks at her as he nods, his eyes slivers as they scan the yard of ambling Walkers.

She takes a seat on an overturned wooden packing crate and busies herself with inspecting his feet. Everything is bigger about him. Clearing her throat she asks him if he wants to meet his baby sister – the look he sends her slices her to the bone and she finds herself instinctively pulling Judith closer.

Carl turns back to the yard, telling her that she isn't really his sister, and that Claire told him that she cheated on his dad and had sex with Shane.

Lori swallows, taking a deep breath. She nods, pulling one leg up, her hand wrapping around her ankle to secure it in place. She admits that it is true, and that she has regretted everyday what happened with Shane, but that people make mistakes and things are always more complicated than they seem. She is careful to clarify that Judith is Rick's baby, that she was pregnant before the shooting. When he doesn't say anything she asks if anyone told him about what happened with Claire.

He says yes, it is all anyone is talking about. His words are cold, but he finally turns to face her, his hands balled at his sides. He is cold, and it scares her in the same breath that it breaks her heart. She reaches for one of his fists as she apologizes, telling him that she never wanted to leave him. And that she thought about him every single day.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asks, his voice cracking.

Tugging on his hand she guides him to her, holding his stiff form against her. "Oh, baby, you were already gone," she explains, blinking back tears. Pulling back to see him, she uses her thumb to wipe away the tears on his cheeks, her heart shredding at his expression. He seems so lost between anger and sadness and it breaks her – her own tears finally slipping free. "My sweet boy."

Carl scrubs his face with his hands and turns to the sling around her neck as the baby coos, letting out the beginnings of a rudimentary babble.

Laughing softly, Lori pulls back the fabric to show off the little girl. "I think she is happy to finally meet you," she tells him, sniffing. Reaching inside the sling she eases the baby free, carefully passing her over to Carl who looks startled at first, but then accepts her with an air of caution. Lori laughs again, helping him to adjust his arms so that he is cradling both Judith's head and bottom. She hushes the baby who squirms and mews with displeasure.

Carl's eyes sweep his sister from head to toe before he looks up at her again. "My shirt," he utters, a look of surprise registering on his face.

Nodding, Lori offers him a smile, clearing her throat. "Whenever she was wearing it, it felt like I was holding both of my babies again," she confides, her hand finding his cheek. "That's all I wanted."

XXXX

Lori quickly finds her place in the group again. She learns about the events that have happened in her absence: finding the prison, Hershel's leg, T-Dog's death, Merle, Woodbury, The Governor, Andrea…

It is overwhelming to hear about it all and she is quickly drawn into the umbrella of fear and nervous anticipation that they all seem to be living under. She learns that the people from Woodbury had only arrived a day or so before, and that they are still trying to figure out what to do with everyone.

Lori, used to living in isolation, feels overwhelmed by the constant chatter and slamming of doors that echo through the stone walls of the prison. She has a headache by the time the evening rolls around, so she sneaks outside, finding an empty overpass. She tosses her bag onto the ground – she is going to use some peppermint oil to try to ease her headache. She cringes at the bullet holes embedded in the wooden skids, remnants of one of The Governor's attacks that Beth told her about.

She glances around, ensuring her privacy before she unbuttons her shirt and begins to nurse Judith. The baby is unusually grouchy so she paces with her, bouncing her lightly in an attempt to sooth her. When the door behind her opens she rolls her eyes in frustration – wondering if she will have to go to one of the guard's towers just for a moment of privacy.

She relaxes when she glances over her shoulder to find that it is Rick who has come outside. His arms slide around her waist, his head dipping to watch Judith nurse. His eyes slide sideways and he looks at her bag, questions burning on his face. "Going somewhere?"

Lori shakes her head, telling him she just needed something from her bag. He visibly relaxes, reaching out to touch her hair that is draped over her shoulder. Judith is occupying both of her hands so she presses into him, her lips finding his shoulder.

"These people are afraid," she tells him, stepping back when the door opens again and Carl steps out. He looks between them warily, but relaxes when Lori encourages him to come out, transferring the baby onto her shoulder. Rick lifts his hands and motions for her to share, so she passes Judith to him then crouches down to her bag to pull out a towel. She drapes the burp-cloth over his shoulder and turns to Carl, noting something in his hands. "What do you have there, baby?"

Shyly, he holds it out to her, offering her a frame. She takes it and turns it over, revealing the smiling faces of herself, Carl, and Rick. Carl tells her that he got it from back home… well, from the Café. Sliding one arm around him, she presses a kiss to his temple, an idea forming.

XXXX

Lori grins as she tucks the picture that Carl had retrieved from Cynthiana into the pages of a diary, followed by the one of Judith when she was just a week or so old. Last is the most recent picture of their collection: her entire little family sitting next to a chain-link fence, taken by Carol. She traces Rick's smiling face with her finger, then laughs at Judith's, looking up at her brother, her mouth parted in awe.

Carol appears in the doorway, telling her they're back, and she scoops up her daughter from the box that she has been sleeping in for a couple of weeks now. Following the other woman outside, she feels excitement bubble inside her when she sees the pickup truck. "See what daddy has, Judith." She makes her way over to Rick, who is grunting as he lifts the baby's cradle out of the back of the truck. Daryl is picking up another box of herbs and books and he scowls at her as he walks toward C-Block. She pats his arm as he passes her, thanking him again for going to get her things. He grunts in response and continues on his way, but she doesn't miss it when his mouth lifts as he glances at Judith.

They set up the cradle in the corner of their cell, and Lori takes a moment to admire the woodwork – she had forgotten how beautifully Badger had crafted it. When Rick finds her with tears in her eyes she smiles warmly and asks him to help her put Judith down for her nap. While they swaddle and rock her, Lori tells him about the woman who not only saved her life, but changed it.

When she is finished they sit in silence, her head resting on his shoulder as they watch their baby sleep. The prison is loud around them, but somehow she feels a sense of peace and quiet come over her as she tunes out the noise of the world.

She knows that there are still Walkers, and The Governor, and other dangers just waiting on their doorstep. But here, in this moment, right now, she is safe, she loves, and she is loved,

That is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Complete. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Huge thanks and hugs to my beta di311.


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